I remember the dusk humidity I'd become all-too familiar with. I remember the bustling crowds on the pavement and the glossy building faces that reflected the trees and the cars and the birds.
I tried my best to stand tall, clenched my jaws as if tightening the floodgates for my tears. She let hers loose.
We'll see each other again, I promised. I don't know when, I don't know how. But we will.
The cab driver behind me, leaning his weight from the window, gestured for me to hurry it up.
And that's where I left her. On the street. In the crowd, her handbag limply hanging from her delicate shoulder.
I bet malicious heartbreak is torturous. I can't imagine. I can't process the hurt that comes with a toxic relationship, of lies and cheating and violence and abuse.
But I do know this...
Ending it with her so soon toppled me. We had something. There was no heartbreak. There was no fighting. There was only a return flight that I had to catch.
It felt wrong, it still does. It felt against the grain, against nature's currents. I should've stayed, maybe she should've came. But all I know is, we could have been.